


To Learn from Failure

by MavisMelisande



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6691903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavisMelisande/pseuds/MavisMelisande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beginning at the end of TFA and moving into the possibilities of what occurs after.</p><p>Hux is orderd by Supreme Leader Snoke to retrieve Kylo Ren. Rey and Finn are left to die on Starkiller base, (or so Hux thinks.) OFC is tasked with caring for the crazed Jedi Killer.<br/>This fic will have alternating POV’s. </p><p>This is my first fic in this universe. To be honest, it’s really the first fanfic I’ve ever written and posted. Constructive criticism would be lovely.<br/>I have no idea where I’m going with this, and therefore I have left relationships empty for the time-being. I will add tags and relationships as they present themselves. </p><p>I have re-written the first chapter, twice, since it’s initial posting, and it has now become two chapters. If you read this when it was originally posted, there have been no significant changes in plot, and I do not think it is necessary to re-read.<br/>The major change is that when inspiration strikes, it is always in the form of a weird, third-person first-person hybrid, but I have a very hard time keeping up with it. Therefore, I have changed it all to strictly first-person narrative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux is orderd by Supreme Leader Snoke to retrieve Kylo Ren. Rey and Finn are left to die on Starkiller base, (or so Hux thinks.) OFC is tasked with caring for the crazed Jedi Killer.

       I slid down the open ramp of the shuttle before it had landed, weapon drawn, boots crunching on ice as I searched the forest with precision. Glancing at the monitor in my left hand, I noted the soft blink that indicated Kylo Ren’s position as somewhere ahead of me. Plasma followed shortly, as the earth trembled beneath me. I had no doubt that she had kept her balance as easily as I, the shuttle still hovering above the moving surface. Turning, I snarled into the shuttle: “Were you not told to move out? It is not a requirement that the ship be stationary. Or has cowardice overtaken your need to follow orders?” The stormtroopers jerked to attention, filing out of the ship to fan around Phasma. They would be sent to reconditioning the moment they landed aboard the Finalizer, and I hoped for Phasma’s sake that she would take the initiative on her own.  
       We moved forward, through the trees, as the planet heaved once more. It must have been the worst tremor, a great crack echoing into the gray sky. A grimace overtook my face, my greatest accomplishment on the path to destruction, failure setting my skin alight with anger. A chasm gaped ahead, and I searched for the hulking figure cloaked in black. It took me a moment to locate him, not anticipating that the man would be injured, lying in a heap on the snow. And across the fissure, I saw them. The scavenger and the _traitor_. Another of my recent failures, though I felt I could share this one with Phasma. I had no doubt that they had played a major part in this, that they had brought the greatest weapon in the galaxy to nothing more than a shambling week that would soon be nothing more than space junk. My teeth ground as my jaw tensed. Perhaps that was giving them too much credit. The troopers raised their weapons, but I heard Phasma’s cool voice interject, “We are here to retrieve Lord Ren, nothing more.”  
       I felt my eye twitch, and I wondered if we had time to retrieve the renegades. The Supreme Leader’s demand was certainly our utmost concern, but would Snoke not be pleased, if I delivered the traitors to his feet? I contemplated it for a moment more, as the troopers began to carry Ren back to the shuttle. I sighed, disappointment a bitter taste in the back of my mouth. I had been given an order, and I would not risk further failure, or possible death, in order to retrieve two miscreants that would die shortly.  
       I spared another glance at the girl, as she hunched protectively over the man laying immobile in the snow, a saber gripped tight in her fist. _Now where did you get that?_ I returned her level gaze, noting the anger burning in her hazel eyes. Her dark hair clung to her tan skin in loose curls where it had come undone, her face tense. I could sense the fear in her. Not the fear of death, as one might expect, but a fear I had sensed in Ren on occasion. Fear of inadequacy, of indecision, as some unseen force pulled him in two, the dark drowning him as the light fought to break through. And the girl… The girl looked as though she had seen something in herself, something that frightened her. The corner of my mouth twisted into something akin to a smile. _Interesting._ I slid the tracker into my belt, leaning down to retrieve Ren’s saber from the snow, watching her with my other hand on my blaster. I nodded my head to her in farewell, turning to return to the shuttle.  
       It was a shame that she would die on this plant. She was obviously powerful, having felled the _Great Lord_ Ren with little to no training. I pictured it briefly, her small frame wrapped in black as she stood with me on the Bridge. In my estimation, she seemed to be far more worthy of Supreme Leaders influence… A pity that I wouldn’t have the chance to test the theory. I followed the last of the troopers into the shuttle, and it took off the second my feet touched the durasteel. I growled as I nearly lost my balance, a steadying on the frame the only thing that had saved me. The ramp closed behind me as I moved further into the hull, looking towards the cockpit above me in displeasure. The faint smell of garbage began to fill the small space the moment the ramp sealed, only adding to my annoyance. The stormtroopers had huddled in the far corners of the room, ignoring strategic placement. They would all be lucky if they made it to reconditioning.  
       I stood over Ren, watching as his eyes attempted to focus. His hair was matted to his skull with sweat, his skin sickly and sallow. Following the red, furrowed wound that sliced his face in two down to his chest, the fabric singed and peeling, I marveled that he hadn’t been blinded. Blood had begun to seep through the armorweave of his robes, staining the chrome beneath him vibrantly. Both shoulders appeared to have been lightly wounded, the fabric melted to skin. His cloak was missing a fair chunk, the boot below it gaping open to show a wound similar to his face, but by my estimation, deeper. I sighed. Supreme Leader would be displeased. I tapped my wrestling, bringing it closer to my face.  
       “Pilot, call ahead and have a medical team meet us in the docking bay,” frustration seeping through at my tone.  
       “Yes, sir,” he responded, somewhat distracted. I felt the shift as we entered lightspeed, a small amount of disappointment flitting through me as I realized I would not be present for Starkiller’s death.  
       “How did you find me?” Ren ground out, his face twisted in pain. I raised an eyebrow, my hand brushing the tracker as I moved to snap my blaster into place at my him. _Wouldn’t do for him to know about that._  
       “You are lucky that we found you at all, Commander,” I replied in clipped tones.  
       “The girl…” He attempted to sit upright, sliding back into a prone position on the bench, the nearest stormtroopers shuffling further away from the man. I could sense that even behind their helmets they were looking away, attempting to look small. Anything to avoid Ren’s attention. I considered, briefly, if he would have them killed. I cast a glance at Phasma, knowing that it was unlikely that the Knight would be comfortable with so many knowing his features… Knowing of his injuries at the hands of a scavenger. Yes, Ren might kill them, and they had avoided the attention that they felt was so undesirable, for now. But they had brought the full force of my attention upon them, and not for the first time in the span of an hour. If they thought Ren was the only superior officer they needed to fear, the would soon realize their folly.  
       “The girl was left to die,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I am sure you will be pleased to know that the untrained rat will no longer pose a threat to the _Lord of the Knights of Ren._ ” I hissed. How someone could have been bested by a young girl, how she had escaped from the interrogation room, I would never understand. Ren’s features twisted in anger, and the shuttle began to vibrate. How like Ren, to use his mystical force to vibrate the ship apart from the inside out, prepared to kill everyone on board with one of his temper tantrums. The movement stopped as suddenly as it had began, as Ren fell unconscious. I stood still for a few moments, enjoying the silence for a few moments.  
       “… What smells?” The question came softly, as Kylo Ren looked about the room, clearly in a state of confusion. I couldn’t stop the small snort of derision that escaped me, turning to look at Phasma, her chromium armor covered in grime. She had removed her helmet, and her fair skin showed the pink of her embarrassment strongly, her light hair damp and discolored. She sat in silence, a look of disgust twisting her lips, her posture not relaxing until Ren’s eyes fell shut once more. Though glad for the moment of humor, it passed as quickly as it had come. There were trials ahead, that I fully intended to conquer. I would not fail the First Order again.  
       “I will expect your full report shortly after we land aboard the Finalizer, Captain. You will include the designation of every person on this ship, as well.”  
       “Yes, sir,” She replied in a low tone, her normal confidence softly subdued. The shuttle shifts out of lightspeed, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as she reached for her helmet. She looked as though she would rather face an enraged rathtar than return it to its rightful place upon her shoulders. I wondered, not for the first time in recent memory, what could possibly be the story behind her current state. I pushed it away again, there were more pressing matters to attend to. The shuttle landed roughly, and I couldn’t remember taking any damage, though it appeared it had occurred. The ramp lowered, the high pitched Imperial alarm ringing through the hangar. I called the Bridge, following Phasma and the troopers from the shuttle, paying no attention to the medical team ascending to care for Ren.  
       “Is the Finalizer under attack?” Though the pilot had not reported any sign of conflict, my estimation of the man’s capabilities was startlingly low.  
       “No, General. The high alert has been active since the attack on Starkiller began.” I nodded in response, as Vice Admiral Resdox continued. “A contingent of TIE fighters are holding the perimeter, sir, though we’ve had no sign of the Resistance.” With the casualties they had sustained, I doubted that the Resistance would feel that attacking a Resurgent-Class Star Destroyer would lead to any amount of success. I paused, reminding myself not to underestimate them again, as my estimation of their numbers had lead me to believe that the onslaught on Starkiller Base would have been futile. I frowned. Had the shields not gone down, D’Qar would have been destroyed, and the Resistance with it. If it could be discovered why the shields failed, I could remedy my mistake for future.  
       “Very well, Vice Admiral. I will be returning to the Bridge shortly.”  
       “Of course, General.” The comm went silent just as I heard a rather loud crash from behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have used multiple sources to come to my decisions in regards to certain things, including: the film, the novelization, Wookieepedia, and the Visual Dictionary.
> 
> In the Visual Dictionary, it is stated that Kylo Ren has little respect for Hux as a warrior because his experiences in warfare are entirely theoretical, having been trained through the same vivid simulations as the Stormtroopers. That being said, he has complete confidence in his father’s training methods, and I therefore picture him with complete confidence in his own skills. 
> 
> In the novelization, Hux finds Kylo Ren with a position sensor emplaced in Ren’s belt. I pretty firmly believe that Kylo doesn’t know it’s there. I can’t see him agreeing to such a thing, even if it was an order from the Supreme Leader, especially if Hux would have access to it. 
> 
> The First Order appears to use a combination of Army and Navy ranks. I have come to this conclusion because General is an Army rank. Colonel is Army. Captain could be either, though it's a higher rank in the Navy. Lieutenant could be either. Petty Officer is Navy. Commander is Navy. Vice Admiral is Navy. It is my belief that officers that have an Army rank are not only assigned to the Finalizer, but also land based units. Therefore I have attempted to chose rank for my characters with this thought in mind.   
> As Vice Admiral is the highest command other than General in either tree, I decided that Vice Admiral Resdox (mentioned only in the credits of TFA,) would be the one left in charge of the Finalizer in General Hux' absence. 
> 
> I have pretty detailed notes on everything, to keep track of why I chose certain passages and why I feel the way I do about certain things. Feel free to engage in debate if you feel I am incorrect.


	2. A Certain Lack of Respect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mouthy OFC offends both Kylo Ren and General Hux, but does her job.

       Turning, I saw what I had feared. The group of medics were struggling with Ren, his hand outstretched in an all-too-familiar manner. Moving quickly back onto the shuttle, I shouted at him.  
       “Commander, you are aboard the Finalizer and will be receiving medical treatment!” His fingers twitched, and the medic began to slide slowly down the durasteel as Ren calmed. I frowned as I went to assist the medic, dissuaded as she glared with determination, already rising to her feet. Disarmed by her small stature and delicate features in contradiction with her attitude, I found my interest piqued.  
       “General Hux.” She gave me recognition, her emerald eyes flicking to mine briefly, as she stood on shaking feet. It was no proper greeting, lacking a salute, but given the circumstances I decided to leave it be. She returned to her place at the wounded man’s side, straightening her light gray uniform, tucking flaxen hair beneath her hat. I felt my eyebrow rise. A medical officer, not just medical personnel, had been sent to treat Ren. I moved forward, intent on helping keep the man under control, until she looked at me with such vehemence at my enrichment that I stopped dead in my tracks. “General, your assistance is not necessary, however I thank you for the intention.” I quickly controlled my facial features, the look of consternation replaced with a slightly demeaning sneer. I folded my hands behind my back, Ren’s saber still clutched in my left hand.  
       “Very well, I will observe only.”   
       In a steady, commanding voice, she gave orders. “Naza, kill his pain. Thee, apply pressure to his side. Clovis and Carron, help me move him to the repulsor gurney. On my count. One. Two. Three.” As they lifted him, the insufferable man continued to struggle, albeit without his previous vigor. “Commander, I must insist that you stay still, or I will make you,” She hissed as they dropped him onto the gurney. I found myself rather pleased with Ren’s uncomfortable landing, apparently I was feeling rather vindictive today. And I was… Impressed, with the woman’s Audacity? Though true, that wasn’t entirely the right word I was looking for… Confidence, perhaps? Lack of respect for her own life, certainly. Ren began to lift his arm, likely intending to harm her again, but she shoved his arm down, and he winced as she pushed against his shoulder. “Naza, give the Commander Nyex, instead of Comaren.” _Bold move… Intelligent_. Nyex would put him to sleep.   
       The woman I assumed to be Naza also wore a light grey uniform, though hers was in disarray, her black her falling from her cap in wild curls. Her dark eyes crinkled in frustration as she attempted to slide the fabric of Ren’s clothing up, unable to move enough to be useful. Her superior officer noted the problem quickly, fishing a rather large pair of scissors from her kit and handing them to Naza. The girl looked, well, terrified, at the thought of cutting through the Commander’s clothing. The officer paused, staring at the young girl. I estimated that she was in her early twenties, though I had never been quite good at such things, as her superior officer seemed to be even younger.   
       “Specialist Naza, is there a problem?” The girl gave a pleading look, even going so far as to look up at me. In return, the officer snatched the scissors back, cutting through the banded, rubbery arm of Ren’s clothing. She apparently did not allow his reputation to dissuade her from doing her duty. She slid a needle effortlessly into his arm, attaching an IV before injecting the narcotic. The rather large man I assumed to be Thee was leaning heavily on Ren’s side, and as he shifted the air left Ren in a strangled huff. Thee looked apologetic, and I noted that the grey scrubs he wore were beginning to soak up the blood that had escaped from his compress. Clovis and Carron, a pair I had not yet been able to identify separately, gathered tools. The woman scanned Ren, making a dissatisfied face at the results. The man had pulled a tube from his supplies, and began slathering bacta to Ren’s face.   
       “Lets move,” she snapped at them, in a tone I found to be somehow familiar. I followed the group as the descended from the shuttle, pausing as I noticed a small group of pilots and officers that had lingered near the shuttle. Their attempts to look occupied did not fool him in the least, with the exception of the technician that was ripping into the base of the Command Shuttle in order to repair it. I turned to the group, giving them what I hoped was an appropriately withering stare.   
       “You will return to your duties immediately, but each and every one of you is to report to my office at the end of your shift. If I am unavailable, you are to wait until I am able to receive you. Is that understood?” I received a great many responses at once, all in agreement, as they scattered. The technician had saluted, giving him a questioning look. “Yes, you too,” I said softly, hoping that they understood that they, were in fact, not to be punished. Scowling, I hurried after the medical team. And to think, if I was displeased, Ren would be enraged. He had taken such care to hid his face from his subordinates, from everyone on this ship, and now a great number of people had seen him unmasked, injured, and in various states of consciousness. How many people would die before Supreme Leader intervened?   
       I quickly overtook the medical team, my long legs outpacing those of the small officer leading the crew. I was pleased to see that at least some of my personnel had not forgotten their place, as they moved out of the way of their approach, saluting me as I passed. The hatch to Sick Bay slid open ahead of them, disinfectant wafting through the air. The main room was large, clusters of care centers dispersed along the bow wall for small injuries. A series of medical droids came to attention at their entrance, but the team was heading for a door directly ahead of them. I had never spent much time in Sick Bay, and I had forgotten how much I hated it there. The room was much too bright, white light panels covering the ceiling, white walls, light grey floor. White chairs. White tables. White droids. It seemed counterintuitive, to have such a room be white. But the lack of staining meant that someone had found a way to keep the room spotless, even as Ren’s blood splattered along the floor.  
       “Specialist Naza, you are temporarily relieved from duty,” The sharp command echoed in the small room, and the group paused as Naza turned to her superior officer, shock on her face, tears in her eyes. “The rest of you continue.” The others hurried along, ducking their heads as they pulled rem further into the halls of the medical center. “You have enlisted in the First Order, as denoted by your rank of Specialist. You are a combat medic, not a private medical professional. If you cannot care for your Commander without fear of repercussions, I do not believe that you can be trusted in the field. Until you decide if you would rather be Specialist Naza, or Nurse Eidin Naza, you will not touch any of my patients. You are dismissed.” She left no room for argument, her face showing nothing more than subdued disappointment. Naza saluted her superior officer and I in turn, her lip trembling, and then moved to leave Sick Bay. She lost her composure just before she hit the door, and she sprinted the rest of the way into the hall. I was pleased with her decision, though I hadn’t actually thought of the implications of the girls fear at the time. I found that I was further and further surprised by this woman. If only Phasma had done such a thing with the troopers, it would make for a less awkward conversation in the near future. And then she turned on me.   
       “Surely you have more important things to attend to than to babysit the Commander?” She said, more statement than question. Although rather fond of her impudence when directed at Kylo Ren, I found it rankled. She was not incorrect, I did, in fact, have a great many things to do what were of a higher importance. She looked up at me, unflinching, green eyes narrowed, awaiting an answer.   
       “I do not intend to watch over your every move. You will, however, remember that you are speaking to your superior officer, and act accordingly,” I said with steel I prided myself in. She had the grace to look contrite, but the strength to not be embarrassed. “You will treat Commander Ren with the utmost care, and I have no doubt that you understand the consequences should you fail.” I could swear that she almost rolled her eyes, and I had to stop my mouth from twitching into a smile.   
       “Yes, sir,” she said, saluting.  
       “And Miss…?”  
       “Second Lieutenant Farran, sir,” came the terse response. I had annoyed her, I realized. Her fingers trembled beneath the cuff of the uniform that denoted her rank, almost as if she wished to point towards the silver Aurebesh script on her other arm. I felt my estimation of her rise, having not entirely expected her to notice the insult. She looked as if she was having trouble keeping her mouth shut, leading me to believe that she had needed to prove that she deserved that rank on more than one occasion.  
       “Lieutenant,” I corrected, “You will report to me immediately following your treatment of the Commander. Is that understood?”  
       “Yes, General Hux.” I looked at her, noting that she presented perfectly within regulations, unlike Specialist Naza. She appears to be sufficient in her knowledge of her duties, and her control of her team. The perfect officer, if I could tame her mouth. I paused, the secondary meaning of my own words settling in the pit if my stomach as I glanced at the delicate, pink cupids bow of her mouth. I snapped my eyes back to hers. I must be more tired than I had thought.  
       “You are dismissed, return to your duties.” She saluted, running to catch up with her team.   
       I marched through the halls, taking the lift to the Bridge. I stormed into the Command Center, the black duracrete shining beneath my boots. Every officer stood at attention, the officers below in the datapits pausing to salute before returning to their work. I returned their gaze, ready to remedy the mistakes of the past few hours.   
       “Bring me every report that has been made in the last twenty four hours,” I barked at no one in particular, turning to make for my office on the left curve of the catwalk. I sat behind the large, polished desk, setting Ren’s saber on the obsidian, the synth-leather of my chair creaking as I leaned back. I suddenly felt tired. Officer Paget let himself in, a data pad loaded with the information I had requested. I reached for it, and I found myself speaking, distracted from the tasks at hand. “Officer Paget, send me the files of every person with medical training on this vessel.”  
       “Yes sir, right away, sir.” He saluted as he was dismissed. I stared at the black that surrounded me, the chrome, red, and white accents giving it some small dimensions. The headache I had began to feel in Sick Bay was pulsing behind my eyes.   
       “Lights, fifty percent.” I said softly into the room, pleased as the immediate sting dissipated with the light. I lost track of time as I sifted through various thoughts, embarrassingly startled when I received another report on the datapad that was still clutched in my hands. I scrolled through the files until I found what I was looking for: Second Lieutenant Amaryis Farran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the First Order's amalgam of Navy and Army ranks, I have given my OFC the rank of Second Lieutenant under the banner of Army. Though it's a rank in both, it is a slightly lower rank in the Army. From my small amount of research, it appears that doctors entering the U.S. Army do so at the minimum rank of Second Lieutenant, and can be promoted through the ranks up to General. This being said, I also picture her having enlisted as a combat medic first, going through basic training and moving up in the ranks. She earned her rank of Second Lieutenant, even though it could have been handed to her if she had enlisted with as a Doctor with her medical degree. That might be a little off kilter as to how things would actually work, but eh. 
> 
> And who am I kidding, this is so going to turn into Hux/OFC.


	3. Somehow Provocative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second Lieutenant Farran has to make her report to General Hux... A couple hours late, as far as he's concerned.

       The stomp of my boots echoed through the deserted halls, bouncing from duracrete to durasteel. I had never seen the Finalizer so quiet, only the occasional stormtrooper guard posted throughout the ship assuaging my silly fear that it had been abandoned, that I was the only left onboard. I blamed such a thought on fatigue, though I did wonder why the Finalizer, a ship that was staffed and running twenty-four-seven, would suddenly seem so empty. I felt my eyebrows knit in confusion, the migraine behind my eyelids causing discomfort at the movement and I straightened my posture as I continued in my march up to the bridge. I truly had no idea if General Hux would even be awake at this hour, I was under the impression that he had been expecting faster results than I had planned on, and complications had extended even my estimate. But I had been told to report when I was finished, and I would not disobey. I slid into the lift, leaning against the wall as it carried me through the massive ship.  
       I startled awake as the doors slid open, my small catnap much too short. The lift opened directly into the rather short hallway that led to the entrance of the bridge, and as I exited I was immediately accosted with questions and a demand to state my purpose. I blinked tiredly at the two stormtroopers ahead of me, well aware that they were just doing their jobs, but I was too tired for this shit.  
       “Second Lieutenant Farran. I was told to report to General Hux, immediately after my duties were finished,” I said, my tone tired and filled with annoyance. The black pits of their masks stared back at me, and I found it disconcerting. A third trooper was behind them, flicking through a datapad at a leisurely pace. They straightened, having found what they were looking for.  
       “She’s listed here, though it appears the General was expecting her a few hours ago,” the slightly distorted voice responded, and I picked up some tone that indicated that they felt sorry for me. Late for a meeting with General Hux. Lovely. I felt as if I had been socked in the gut, my eyes tightening with stress. They moved aside to let me pass, following behind me as the large doors at the end of the hall slid apart to reveal the bridge. I had never been to any of the higher levels of the Finalizer, let alone the bridge, and I found myself staring out into space. A large circular catwalk spanned the space, the datapits tucked down beneath it, the hum of machinery evident. A tall man stood on the center catwalk, his black uniform pristine, his officer’s hat snug atop his head. His posture was to be envied, his arms crossed neatly behind his back. Dark eyes surrounded by crows feet met mine briefly, a small, unconcerned look over his shoulder all the recognition I would receive from him before he returned to staring out the transparisteel. The stormtroopers saluted to him before leading me around to the right, to a closed hatch that somehow managed to scream authority. One of the troopers knocked. I few moments passed with no indication that anyone was in the office, and the reply came just as the trooper went to knock again.  
       “Enter,” was heard softly through the metal, and the trooper tapped the communications pad to the side of the door, both of them walking away as the doors opened. I walked inside, holding my head high, saluting the man that leaned on his desk in front of me. His light hair was still expertly coiffed, though stubble had begun to show itself on his chin. His normally pristine uniform was slightly wrinkled, and although he looks tired, he still looked more put together than he had any right to be.  
       “General Hux.” I said firmly, moving to attempt my best mimicry of the posture of the man in the bridge. He looked me up and down, gesturing that I could relax. I relaxed my shoulders some, but still kept my position.  
       “Second Lieutenant, you are a few hours later than I expected…” I winced, watching him as he continued. “Please report.” His voice came across as cool and commanding, ever in control. I remembered his voice earlier, when he was nearly screaming at Commander Ren, and then the soft, subtle, icy warning he had given me earlier in the day as to how I was speaking to him. A small shudder ran through me, and I truly never hoped to displease the man.  
       “Yes, General. We had complications concerning our treatment of Commander Ren. I…” I felt myself pause, as if cotton was stuck in the back of my throat. I did not like to admit failure or complications to myself, let alone to my superior. “I have never treated a Force user, General.” A thick eyebrow was lifted, his full lips pursed into a sign of disappointment. “The narcotics we gave him appeared to affect him differently, either not fully or with stunted time. This made treating him… Difficult. I am confident in my abilities, and I am certain that he was given the correct dosage. Therefore, I can only discern that perhaps the Force was to blame.” The General’s mask cracked some at the mention of the Force, and I could sense both disbelief and anger before he mastered his face once more. I sighed, continuing. “Commander Ren’s injuries were primarily superficial. We treated him for the burns that he received, and repaired any musculature or ligaments damaged in the wounds that were not just glancing. He will likely have impaired mobility for a period of time in one shoulder and his leg. The wound in his side was of utmost concern, and further scans showed signs of internal bleeding, he was moved into surgery. The concussive blast from the bolt caused some pretty severe damage, the penetrating wound causing a bleeding injury coupled with severe burns. He is now stable and in the bacta tank.” He stared at me, as if in contemplation. He stood straight suddenly, his body immediately falling into the perfect posture I was attempting to mimic, though with I glance I could say that his was better than the other mans.  
       “Before you joined the First Order. You were a surgeon, is that correct?” He asked, walking back around to the other side of his desk. He leaned down, turning on his datapad, the screen glowing softly. He began scrolling through something, slowly.  
       “Yes, General.” He flicked his eyes back up to mine, still leaning over the desk, looking up at me. He looked… Somehow provocative. I stifled a giggle in the back of my throat, not sure if I managed. Surely there was something wrong with me. If he heard me, he gave no indication.  
       “And why is it that you enlisted, rather than taking a position as one of the medical personnel?” He asked, looking up at me with curiosity. I had to think for a moment, to truly remember my reasoning.  
       “I was… Unmotivated, sir. With technological advancements, many medical needs can be taken care of with droids. I was… Bored. The First Order would need motivation. It was a challenge.” I said, committing part of the truth. And as he looked at me, I could only feel that he knew.  
       “You entered medical school at quite a young age, Second Lieutenant. You excelled in your schooling, in your residency, and became one of the youngest surgeons. I could see why someone of your… Stature, became bored,” He said, somewhat stiffly, the small compliment clouded behind a possible insult. He stood, upright, disregarding the datapad. “If you were just looking for more interesting wounds, you could have waited until the First Order continued to have skirmishes with The Resistance, until war was well and truly eminent, and joined as a surgeon. But you chose to enlist. Again, I will ask why.” He sounded slightly annoyed, and I grimaced.  
       “I wanted to earn my rank, sir.” It was part of the reason, but still not the entirety of the matter. He still looked like he could see through me, but if he could, he chose to leave it be.  
       “You moved up the ranks quickly, in fact, I would be concerned at such a rate if I had not read the rest of your history. Moving from E-1 to E-8 in a matter of six years is quite impressive. And then luck have it, you ended up in a firing zone, caught by the Resistance,” he paused, speaking from memory. I would not have considered it luck, remembering that day was trying. “Your unit fought bravely, but you sustained casualties, including your medical team. A fair amount of wounded were left behind as the Resistance fled, a firefight in orbit leaving your unit woefully abandoned, with no medical care. And so, you stepped in. When your medical training was discovered, you replaced the dead as a combat medic, bumping you up to that E-9 by default.” _Yes, I was there. I am aware of what is in my file,_ I thought, biting my cheek to not say anything. Was there a reason he was reviewing my history?  
       “Shortly after, a warrant was sent for you by Sergeant General Amman, and you became a Warrant Officer, providing your specialized skills as a surgeon. And, eventually a surgeons position was offered to you, which you took, granting you the rank of Second Lieutenant…” He paused, the silence unpleasant. “Do you still feel like you earned that rank, Second Lieutenant Farran?” I felt my face morph into a look of surprise, and I stared at him for longer than was appropriate. Shock, and then anger, flitted across my skin and I felt my face heat. He had the smallest of smirks that graced the corner of his lips as he watched my reaction, and I felt my anger deflate, replaced with confusion. “You have had to prove yourself to your superior officers on more than one occasion.” It was not a question, but an observation. I wondered if there were notes in my file, and I dearly hoped not. The things I occasionally said when my anger hit were nothing short of highly inappropriate, and I was suddenly certain that there were notes. Many. “It is a sore subject for you. One you should dismiss, or at the very least, control your reaction to. You are an exceptionally skilled woman, there will always be people that want to tear from you what you have accomplished, and there will always be men that don’t take you seriously. I suggest you take your earlier confidence in your abilities, and apply it to your accomplishments. Keep me informed when it comes to Ren’s progress. You are dismissed.” He was firm, already turning away from me to attend to another stack of papers.  
       I saluted, turning and walking away from him in something of a haze. That was most certainly not the encounter I had been expecting, and I was not entirely sure what to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that this chapter was pretty much entirely dialogue, but I feel that it's important enough to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to update at least once a week.


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